How Do You Like Me Now?
by HappyHysterical
Summary: Based on Toby Keith's song, "How Do You Like Me Now?" Deals with loser!Rachel and popular!Quinn. Rachel is bound and determined to impress Quinn. But when she finally does, will she still want Quinn like she did in high school? Slightly AU. Will be a future!fic from chapter 2 on.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: This is my first published Faberry fic. Really, I'm just trying to get into writing again after taking a few years off (seeing as college seemed to have drained all my creativity - who'da thunk it?). This came to me as I was listening to my iTunes and trying to think up fun and quick prompts for myself with my best friend. This will really only be 5 chapters, at most, if that. But we'll see where this takes us.

I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to review and give comments or criticisms. I'm very open to everything. :) Now, without further ado, please enjoy the story.

xxxxxxx

Rachel tugged her leather jacket closer to her shivering body. It was merely a cool October night, and she just _happened_ upon the gates of her football stadium. Sure, if you asked her if she had this planned, she would have denied it until her dying breath. Or until you threatened one of her many copies of _Funny Girl_; almost all of them signed, of course.

She had pawned off one of those precious signed copies for cash, because her bank accounts were heavily monitored by her fathers. "_We don't want you spending it on frivolous things. We trust you, but we know that you are impulsive; albeit a heavily researched impulsive buyer. We're just looking out for you so you can prepare for New York_." She remembered her father Leroy telling her as he held out her bank statement. She had seen one of those expensive, _extremely rare_guitars in the local guitar shop. And there had been another person eyeing it, and being Rachel Berry, she wasn't about to lose to someone else. So she bought it. And she still hasn't heard the end of that – nearly 2 years later.

With a shake of her head, she tightened her grip on the lock cutters in her hand. She took a long glance around, to make sure there were no patrolling officers coming around. When she saw that she was alone – which, who was she kidding? In this small town, everyone is in bed by one in the morning – even the police officers.

The lock made a satisfying thud on the ground as she pulled it from the gate. She smiled and pulled her backpack up to her shoulder before slowly opening the gate, to minimize the noise, of course; she was a rule-breaker, but she wasn't stupid.

Once she was inside the football stadium, she took a deep breath. "You can do this, Berry." She whispered to herself as she half-drug her feet across the grass. It made a satisfying squishing noise because of the dew that was starting to collect. One of the many reasons she loved autumn was because of the dew in the morning. If she thought about it, she could probably go on a thirty minute lecture to you about what it signified about herself and her dreams – but that was for another point in time. She had to finish what she came out here to do, lest she back out at the last second like last time.

But she had to give herself credit. This was the furthest she'd gotten so far in this plan. She'd bought the supplies; she had packed them carefully for easy and quick access. She also made sure she had many escape routes in case someone happened upon her in the middle of her act – but seeing as it was three in the morning, she didn't see that happening. But Rachel Berry was always prepared for any situation that could come about.

xxxxxxx

Rachel Berry was prepared for _almost _all situations.

Currently, she was hiding in the Choir Room. Of course, as she was hiding, she was also practicing for her solo in the upcoming Sectionals that she and her Glee Club were going to perform in.

She hadn't expected anyone to figure out it was her doing, of course; at least, not this soon – not even 8 hours after she had performed the act. She had already been cornered by one Finn Hudson, in the hallway before school had started.

Really, she tried to listen to him yell at her. Typically she took all criticisms with stride to get better, but there was something about his monotone voice and baby-constipated face that didn't allow her to concentrate on what he was saying – or rather, yelling.

And then the bane (and only reason for) of her existence walked up to her. Okay, walk would be an understatement. "_Sashaying. That's what she's doing. Sashaying down the hallway. No, still not right_." She internally sighed as she tried to think of the right word for the way that this girl – no, woman – moved through the halls of McKinley High. She took a deep breath, as she waited for the most popular girl in school to approach her at her locker.

"What possessed you into thinking this was some funny stunt, Berry?"

Rachel shivered slightly at such the harsh tone. She should have expected this, once everyone found out what she did. She figured she'd try and postpone her punishment for at least a couple of hours – at least until the school day was over. "Why, my dear Quinn, I'm not quite sure I know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Man Hands!" Quinn slammed her hand on the locker to the left of Rachel's head. She pulled out her phone and showed the resident nerd and loser of the school the picture she had taken of the football field as she awaited Cheerio's practice that morning. "This! I know this is your doing!"

Rachel reached out to grasp Quinn's phone to get a better look at the aforementioned picture. The corner of her lips twitched as she tried to hide her smile at her handiwork. "Quinn, I assure you that I have no idea who committed such a heinous crime on school property." She let go of Quinn's phone and smiled at the Head Cheerio. "But whoever did it, has a large set of, what is it that Santana would say? Cajones? Anyway, they must have had a large set of balls to deface our school's football stadium, wouldn't you say, Quinn?"

Quinn stepped forward, pressing Rachel into her own locker. "I know it was you, Berry."

"And what proof do you have that I committed this crime, Quinn?" Rachel smirked as her eyes drifted down to Quinn's lips. She enjoyed when the girl – no, woman – was angry.

"Who else would use gold spray paint?" Quinn narrowed her eyes on Rachel. She watched as the girl shrugged her shoulders. "And there's a star instead of a dot in my name. Who else do we know that uses stars frequently?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders again, looking Quinn directly in the eye. "Maybe someone wanted to frame me. Clearly, everyone knows how unpopular I am in this school; I'm the easiest one to pick on. So why not make it so that I, Rachel Berry, did this crime. Did you ever think about that, Quinn?"

Quinn watched as Rachel closed her locker after grabbing her things for her classes. The Cheerio was seething. She knew Rachel did this. Yet what the smaller girl had said seemed to make sense. She furrowed her eyebrows and let out a loud growl. She glared at anyone who dared to meet her gaze as she stomped down the halls of McKinley High to make it to her first class. "_This isn't over, Berry. I will figure out how it was you managed to pull this off._" She thought to herself as she slammed a lower classman into the lockers. Served him right, he didn't get out of her way fast enough.

xxxxxxx

Rachel rested her head on her arms that were resting on the cover to the piano keys. It was nearing four in the afternoon and she knew she had to leave soon because the janitor would be in here soon to kick her out. She had managed to forge some sort of weird friendship with him over the past few years. He had always been in at exactly 4:10 in the afternoons to clean up, as it was shortly after Glee Club had ended, as well as the other extracurricular clubs that were hosted inside the school. The sports, of course, were in their own caliber. She had heard plenty of horrific stories about what he managed to find in the afterhours when he went to go sweep and mop up the locker rooms. But sometimes, she heard valuable information that she was sure the janitor told her just to help her out. Her unpopular status was very well known to everyone in school, which had carried over into every other aspect of her public life.

The squeaky wheels of the mop bucket caused her to sit up with a bright smile. "Hello, Mr. Roberts. How are you this fine evening?"

"I'm doing quite well." The janitor replied as he started to stack the chairs to get them out of the way so he could clean. "How are you, Rachel?"

"Very well, Mr. Roberts." Rachel stood up and accompanied him with moving the furniture. "I just finished practicing for the day. I think I'm going to leave as soon as you get all this moved."

Mr. Roberts smiled. He hadn't had a student stay late to help him in his entire career at this school. So the first time he saw Rachel still in the Choir Room, he was taken aback and shocked. He wondered what it was about this girl that was different; there was something that reminded him of his own daughter who had recently moved out of the house to go to college a few states away. He missed her immensely. Maybe that's why he struck up a friendship with the girl after a few weeks of catching her staying late. Shortly after, he learned how talkative she really was, and learned about almost everything about her life. He felt somewhat guilty because she was so alone, even if she did have two loving parents – two fathers, he learned as well; not what he expected, but he praised the men for raising her to be such a caring young woman. "You seem distracted today, Rachel. Is something bothering you?"

Rachel let out a dramatic sigh. Mr. Roberts also quickly learned how much of a theatre person she was and how she absolutely _adored_ the arts. "Just thinking about something I did last night is all, Mr. Roberts."

"This wouldn't be related to the spray painted, "Quinn Fabray: 419-492-1840, Call for a good time," on the 50-yard line of the football field, would it?"

"How did you hear about that?" Rachel gasped and her eyes wide as physically possible as she stared at the janitor.

Mr. Roberts shrugged. "Word travels fast, Rachel." He chuckled and pulled the mop bucket to one corner of the room. "And it was on the news this morning. They don't seem to have an idea about who did it, seeing as how the locks were replaced after being cut – which they figured out because Coach Sylvester tried her keys on it and they didn't work. And there were no fingerprints anywhere, at least not to the knowledge of our local police."

Rachel smirked. "Was Coach angry?"

"Absolutely livid." Mr. Roberts replied with a large smile. "You know she'll find out it was you sooner or later, right? And with her lackeys all over school, it will probably be sooner than later."

"I think that her lackeys already know, Mr. Roberts." Rachel sighed, sitting atop the piano bench. She watched the janitor mop, enjoying his company. He seemed to be her only friend in this horrible place they called McKinley High. "At least they think they know it's me. They just can't prove it."

Mr. Roberts laughed. "You're a sly one, Ms. Berry." He glanced over and saw that she was nervously picking at her skirt. "Why did you do it?"

Rachel sighed dramatically loud and long. "Because I adore her?"

"Well that's one way of showing her that."

They both let out a soft chuckle. "I know. But she either picks on me or ignores me. And yet I still find her to be the most gorgeous girl in the entire high school. Even my celebrity crushes pale in comparison to her. It's like, when I see her, my heart clenches in my chest until I move closer to her." Another sigh left Rachel's lips. "When she confronted me this morning before classes-"

"Wait a minute, Rachel." Mr. Roberts set his mop back in the bucket, making sure it didn't tip over. "She confronted you this morning about it? _She_ is one of Coach Sylvester's lackeys, Rachel! If she thinks you did this, then you know Coach Sylvester will be punishing you come tomorrow!"

Rachel lifted her hand to calm the older janitor. "I know, Mr. Roberts. I'm fully prepared." She looked him directly in the eye, same as she did with Quinn earlier in the day. "But when she was right up against me, I could feel her breath on my face. When her arm was propping her up against the locker, I could just feel her completely and metaphorically surround me. It was surreal, like it was meant to happen." She cleared her throat. "One day, I will get over one, Quinn Fabray. And she will regret that she ever let me go."

Mr. Roberts walked over and pulled Rachel into a hug. "She will regret not giving you a chance, Rachel. You will be so wonderful once you get out of this godforsaken town. You will make it and everyone who has known you will be envious and jealous that they couldn't be like you. You will show them up like you keep saying you will. I just know it. You will be successful and you will be a star, Rachel Berry. I can feel it in my gut."

"Daddy always says to trust a gut feeling." Rachel chuckled, pulling out of the hug to wipe her eyes. "Maybe it's because it's where you digest food. He is always a sucker for a good home-cooked meal."

"Well your father is right, Rachel." Mr. Roberts smiled and made his way back to his mop bucket. "The heart lies in the stomach." He gave her a wink. "You be careful tomorrow, Rachel. If you need anything, don't hesitate to go to the principal's office or a teacher you trust. I don't want you getting hurt because of all of this."

Rachel grinned. "As long as they don't harm my nose, I will be okay with whatever punishment they seek fit." She pulled her backpack over her shoulders before making her way to the door. "Thank you, Mr. Roberts. You always make my day exponentially better."

"Likewise, Rachel." Mr. Roberts replied. "You have a good night, dear. I will see you tomorrow."

"Same time, same place." Rachel giggled as she practically skipped out of the Choir Room and to her car.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Wow! I cannot believe how many alerts I've had for this fic! I'm speechless to say the least. To my reviewers, I appreciate your reviews! I do hope that this fic lives up to whatever expectations you have for it. I cannot stress enough how much I enjoy how much everyone enjoying this means to me.

But I want you all to know, that I am working 2 jobs right now. So it may take a few days between updates - seeing as I haven't written anything in advance. I hope you bear with me through this journey. It's still looking to be a 5 chapter, at most, story. So we'll see how that goes. And again, without further ado, please enjoy this story.

xxxxxxx

After fiddling with the dial of the radio on her car, she finally settled on the local country station that she had grown fond of when she was younger. She let out a heavy breath because she had just finished jamming out in her car to one of her new singles. A bright smile crossed her lips when she realized that her hometown was playing her songs. Granted, she was their only star; really, she was the only one to make it out of this godforsaken town. But her music was, in her opinion, the _furthest_ thing from the Country genre she had grown up with.

Yet her smile seemed to get even wider when she heard the familiar tune emanating from her car's speaker system – the top-of-the-line, of course; nothing but the best for Rachel Berry. She hummed the guitar intro before belting out the lyrics she knew by heart.

"I was always the crazy one, broke into the stadium and I wrote your number on the 50-yard line." She bobbed her head with the beat, smiling as she had done just that just over ten years ago. "You were always the perfect one, and a valedictorian; so under your number, I wrote 'call for a good time.'" She grinned at her own handiwork from back then – she was gutsy, and she was impressed and proud of herself for such a feat.

"Oh, how the time has flown, Lima." Rachel stated, taking in the view in front of her. She had parked outside her old high school. It was their 10-year reunion. She didn't come back to Lima for just anything – not since her parents had moved out for better jobs in a bigger city.

"_Don't worry Rachel; we'll set up your room exactly as you left it._" Hiram muttered as he boxed up the last of his daughter's possessions while still on the phone with her. That wasn't really her biggest worry, to be quite honest. And well, Rachel Berry wasn't anything but honest.

"_I know, Daddy._" She sighed, listening to her father grunt as he hoisted the box off of the ground. She could just picture it. "_I'm more worried about the house. It holds so many memories. How can you just up and leave?_"

"_Well, Rachel, there isn't anything here anymore. You're in New York. And your Dad and I both got jobs in Fort Worth._" That was the biggest shocker. Her fathers, in Fort Worth. Fort Worth, Texas. Though, to be quite honest, she had done research and seen that it was one of the most underrated gay-friendly cities in the country. But she still worried.

"When I took off to Tennessee, I heard that you made fun of me. Never imagined I'd make it this far." She continued to dance in her car – grateful that she was already parked so that she could make a fool out of herself; not that she cared, Rachel Berry was nothing if not extraordinarily confident in her ability to be herself.

She watched as others pulled up to the high school. It was nearing the proposed start time for the reunion. One couple caught her eye, of course. It took her aback, and she glared at the radio as it said what was on her mind. "But you married into money, girl. Ain't it a cruel and funny world? He took your dreams, and he tore them apart." A brief frown crossed her lips before she pulled on her signature "Rachel Berry face" – which she, of course, perfected at the mere age of 6-years-old.

xxxxxxx

The awkward tension that filled the gymnasium – which _still_ smelt like rotten jock straps and axe body spray – could be cut with a knife. It was ridiculous, really. Rachel Berry never dealt well with awkward situations. If one ever arose, she would just pick up a microphone – or resort to yelling – and sing to her heart's content. Except this was her 10-year high school reunion. And they knew she would be showing up. And specific orders were given to the DJ (whom she recognized as someone from the freshman class when she graduated) to not let Rachel – or anyone, really, but specifically Rachel – have a microphone.

So instead of wrestling the DJ for the microphone – which she _seriously_ contemplated, by the way – she merely downed another cup of punch as she sat in her chair. Throughout the years in New York, she had become an avid people-reader. She could probably make it a career choice if music and theater weren't her life's goal, dreams, and motivation.

She could see that the clique's she had observed in high school were still prevalent ten years later. The jocks still told their jocky stories to one another – except this time it was either college career oriented or intramural sports that the town had every year. The Cheerios were still stuck at the hip. Except this time, she realized the rings on their fingers – and the matching rings on Santana's and Brittany's fingers; she always thought they were cute together.

And then she saw the same couple from before. Quinn with some _man_ on her arm. She wouldn't let him go. Rachel just wanted to walk up to the woman – because there's no way in hell was she still a girl; not with _that_ body – tell her what she's missed out on, and then storm out of this horrid high school reunion.

No, scratch that. Rachel Berry would not _tell_ someone what they had missed out on. No, _telling_ was for amateurs. And Rachel Berry was no amateur.

No, Rachel Berry wanted to walk up to Quinn Fabray – because she couldn't be bothered to remember the _loser_ she had married's last name – _show_ her what she'd missed out on, and then walk away. This would probably require at least one song choice that was the woman's favorite. Rachel wracked her brain for a song that she thought slash knew Quinn would enjoy. She was lost in her own little world. Completely oblivious to anyone walking past her – or in this case, up to her.

"I see you're still single, Berry." Rachel internally winced at the voice. She took in a deep breath before looking up at the owner of the voice. "Cat got your tongue, Berry? Or have you gone mute from all the 'singing' you've been doing since you left Lima?" Yes, air quotes were used. Yes, Rachel did groan out loud and physically restrained herself from face palming.

"One," Rachel held up her pointer finger, "Yes, I am single, Santana. Two," She lifted her middle finger, "While I do enjoy the pussy, one does not currently have my tongue." She smirked as she saw Santana blush at her words. "And three," With her ring finger raised, she grinned widely at the still beet-red woman in front of her, "I have not, nor will I ever go mute from singing. Clearly you don't know the human body well enough to know that if taken care of properly, your vocal chords will be just fine with extensive use." Again, a wide smirk crossed her lips as she saw Santana blush and hide her face with her hands.

Santana cleared her throat. "New York seemed to have given you a pair of cajones, Berry. If you don't watch it, I will go Lima Heights on your ass and cut them off." She glared at Rachel who was still sitting in her chair.

"Oh, Santana," Rachel chuckled as she finally stood up and held open her arms, waiting for a hug, "You and I both know Brittany would keep you from ever hurting me." She smiled into Santana's hair when she felt the woman hug her back. "I've missed you, Santana. It's been far too long since we've seen each other."

"It's been 5 months, Berry. Calm yo' tits." Santana chuckled. "But really, why are you still single?"

Rachel shrugged. She pulled out of the embrace and sighed. "Just haven't found the right woman yet." She scanned the room and her eyes fell onto Quinn and her supposed husband. Her smile fell a millimeter, but Santana caught it and her line of sight followed Rachel's.

"She has three kids. Michael, Jeremy Jr., and Sophia Marie." Santana whispered, holding onto Rachel's hand. "She still asks about you, you know?"

Rachel shook her head. If you asked her, she would say that she was just answering Santana's question. But really, she was just shaking the notion that _Quinn Fabray_ was thinking about _her_. "Is she happy?"

"You don't need me to tell you that, because you already know the answer."

xxxxxxx

"So, three kids, huh?" Rachel asked, as she downed her third alcoholic drink in thirty minutes – she was a lightweight that always hit fast. And she was always an upfront, emotional drunk with a miraculous ability to find ways to emotionally punish herself.

"So, three Tony's, a Grammy, and an Emmy. Just one more away from your dream."

Rachel sucked in a sharp breath. "EGOT. Yeah, I just need my Oscar for that. This should happen within the next few years. I have a few deals in the works in order to obtain my EGOT." She let out a low sigh. "You look good for having three children."

"Jeremy wouldn't allow me to stay 'fat' after my pregnancies, even if it was just a week after I gave birth."

Rachel blinked slowly. She had hoped that what Santana told her about Quinn wasn't true. Rachel wanted to believe that what Quinn had finally decided in life would be the one thing that made her happy. "But you were _pregnant_. Doesn't he realize that it doesn't just snap back like a rubber band? And even after a rubber band has been stretched, it cannot go back to the original shape. Clearly he is an inconsiderate dickfuck that does not understand the intricacies of the human anatomy – specifically the female-bodied anatomy, especially after a female-bodied person gives birth."

Quinn chuckled softly. "You _still_ ramble, after all these years."

"It's a habit I won't ever lose." Rachel gave a small smile.

"Good. Please don't."

Rachel let out a sigh. "Why him?" She knew this was a loaded question. But it was one she had wanted to ask since high school.

Quinn mirrored Rachel, but let out an even longer sigh. "Because he's rich?" She asked, half-jokingly, half-serious.

"But just because he's rich, doesn't mean that he's worth sticking around for." Rachel turned and faced Quinn. Though it was hard to do on the stone bench just outside the gymnasium, she still made it work. "You should be with someone who makes you happy. Not just because they're rich."

Quinn shrugged at Rachel's statements. Rachel could see that Quinn already knew this. "There's more than what you're telling me." It wasn't question, more like an observation.

Rachel waited for Quinn to say something. She waited in silence for nearly 10 minutes before she caved. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't handle being shut out by the woman she had once been in love with – but if she was still being honest with herself, and since she was drunk, she was honest, she was, and always will be in love with one Quinn Fabray. "If you want to ever talk, Quinn, please do not hesitate." She pulled out a business card with her personal information and held it out to the slightly older woman.

When Quinn didn't budge, Rachel stood up and sat the card down where her butt previously resided. "Anytime, Quinn. Day or night."

xxxxxxx

The sheets of this hotel were not up to Rachel Berry standards. They were not up to the thread-count she had requested, nor were they the right color. Granted, she was staying in a _hotel_, she couldn't legally do anything about the hotel not following her written and verbal requests. But she _was_ the one and only Rachel Berry. And what she wanted, she usually got.

After an hour of tossing and turning – and eventual tangling in the sheets because they just _weren't good enough_. She contemplated calling Santana to see if she could bunk with her and Brittany. But not even 5 seconds into that though, she figured she had better not. Seeing as the pair was married, she didn't want to interrupt their 'alone time.'

With a flick of her arm, the covers were thrown off of her body. She slung her legs over the edge of her bed as she brought her hands up to her face, rubbing the exhaustion and thoughts away from her mind. A loud, and dramatic, sigh left her lips. "I'm over you, Quinn Fabray." She said out loud. She was sure of it.

Well, she was sure of it up until Santana told her that Quinn wasn't happy. Since then, Rachel had been trying to picture Quinn Fabray's life. She wondered how the woman spent her day. She wondered how old her children were. No more than 9 years old, she guessed; they couldn't be. She wondered if she still loved bacon as much as she did in high school.

She wondered where it all changed for the woman.

Rachel groaned as she fell back onto the bed; her body bounced slightly before settling on the bed. "It's over, Quinn. I'm done. I've moved on. You had your romp with boys back in high school. Now I'm having mine with girls. Just because you're not happy, doesn't mean that I have to be unhappy as well."

As she sat in silence, contemplating the intricacies of cinema – kidding, of life; no, really, it was cinema and how she'd break into the area – her phone rang. It was marked, 'Unknown.' Normally, at one in the morning, she'd slap at her phone until it stopped making noise. But seeing as she was awake and trying to keep her head above the metaphorical water, she decided to risk it and answer.

"Hello?" She answered softly, not sure as to why.

"Rachel?"

She furrowed her eyebrows together. She knew the voice, but couldn't pin point it, seeing as the caller was whispering. "This is the one and only Rachel Berry. How may I help you?"

"You said I could call anytime; day or night."

Rachel's eyes widen as she could – being exhausted at one in the morning, it wasn't as wide as if she were well-rested. "Quinn?"

"Yeah. Um, is this a bad time? I didn't mean to wake you. I just couldn't sleep."

"No, no. It's perfectly fine, Quinn. What's wrong?"

"Why do you assume that something's wrong?"

Rachel sighed. "Because you're calling me at one in the morning, not even a day after I'd last seen you, stating that you couldn't sleep. Of course I'm going to think something's wrong. Now, will you tell me or do I have to wrestle it out of you?"

She heard rustling on the other side of the line. Rachel assumed that Quinn was either climbing into or out of a bed-like apparatus; even a couch, if Rachel thought long enough. "I just wanted to talk."

"Again, Quinn. It's one in the morning. No one calls at one in the morning just to talk." Rachel could feel that Quinn was going to say something, so she quickly cut her off. "Okay, no one besides me does that. So now, what's wrong?"

"I can't stop thinking about you, Rachel."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: Thank you for your reviews and your alerts! It means so much to me. As I think through this fic, I do believe it will be a 5-chapter fic. I do hope you enjoy it.

Though for this chapter, I do have a warning. Please be advised that I deal with domestic violence in this chapter. Now, I am aware that not all DV victims go through what Quinn has gone through, I don't want to diminish how serious the topic is. As a DV/SA advocate, if anyone has gone through this, is going through this, or knows someone who has gone through this, please contact your local advocacy agency as soon as possible – but please be safe.

And after that Public Service Announcement, please enjoy this chapter. And if you feel compelled, please leave reviews on what you think of the story so far, and what you would like to see in the following two chapters.

xxxxxxx

Her palms were literally sweating. Never in her life, that she could recall, did Rachel Berry ever have sweaty palms. She remembered holding Finn's hand and having to physically hide her grimace. After a few moments of his hand in hers, his started sweating. She wasn't sure why, nor did she really care; so she removed hers and stuck them in her pocket or crossed her arms, claiming to be cold – seemed to do the trick well enough. She always wondered, later on of course, what it was in him that she saw.

With a brief shake of her head, she lifted her hand to knock on the front door of this _quaint_ little house on the other side of Lima – the better part, of course; it was near her old home, which made her smile.

After a moment or so, Rachel was greeted by a short, skinny little blond boy. He couldn't have been more than 8, she guessed. When he looked up at her, Rachel saw his eyes widen and heard a loud gasp. "You're-you're Rachel Berry!"

"That I am. And who might you be, handsome man?" Rachel asked with a chuckle. She bent down to meet his eye and stuck out her hand.

"Jeremy!" He nearly squeaked. He reached out and shook the offered hand.

Rachel stored this information in her memory for use at a later date. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Jeremy. Is your mother in?"

Jeremy nodded, still completely in awe that Rachel Berry was at his doorstep. His mother had told him that she knew her back in high school, but never to expect a visit. And when he asked why, she said it was a long story that should be saved for a later time. "She's in the kitchen making us some lunch." He replied, pulling the door open wider to allow Rachel to enter his home. "Um, could you take off your shoes? It's kinda house rules."

"Of course." Rachel reached over to the wall to slip off her flats. She was _kind of_ clumsy and didn't trust her well enough to take off her own shoes without falling flat on her face or butt. When she placed her shoes on the rack, she looked up, waiting to be led to Quinn. "What's for lunch, Jeremy? And would it be okay for me to join you?"

"We're just having grilled cheese sandwiches, but with added bacon." He smiled at her - the same smile she remembered Quinn having. Rachel noticed a few teeth missing and smiled back at him. "Mom loves bacon. She insists we have it whenever dad isn't home. He isn't really a fan of bacon. He says it's bad for you and makes you get fat."

Rachel frowned before realizing she did so and promptly put on a neutral face as Jeremy turned to look at her. "Well, I say that you should be able to eat whatever you want. In moderation, of course. Paired with a healthy work-out schedule, you should be fit and healthy for your body type."

"You should tell that to dad." Jeremy whispered. He reached out and grabbed Rachel's hand before continuing on to the kitchen where his mom was making lunch. "Mom!" He let go of Rachel's hand when he saw his mom's back turned to him. "Look who's here!"

"Who is it, sweetie?" Quinn asked, her concentration on flipping the two sandwiches in her pan on the stove.

"Rachel Berry!" Jeremy screamed. He bounced over to her and tugged on her shirt. "You didn't tell us Rachel was coming over! I thought you said she'd never come over."

Quinn flipped the sandwiches once more, content with how brown the bread was and how the melted cheese looked, and placed them on a plate covered in a few paper towels. She wiped her hands on the towel that was resting on her shoulder. Clearing her throat, she replied, "That's because I never thought she would ever visit, Jer." She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked down at him. "Could you go and get your brother and sister all cleaned up and ready for lunch? Sophia should be napping in her bed."

"Yes, mom." Jeremy sighed. He drug his feet across the tile floor, passing Rachel. "I hope mom lets you stay for lunch! I know Mike and Sophia want to meet you, too!"

"We'll see, Jer. Now go." Quinn answered for Rachel in an authoritative tone – one Rachel had been accustomed to hearing in high school, and still slightly surprised that she still used it. She waited to hear the footsteps of her eldest child go up the stairs before she greeted Rachel. "I didn't think you'd actually show up."

"I always keep my promises, Quinn." Rachel said softly. "You, of all people should know this."

Quinn let out a sigh and nodded her head. "I'm glad you showed up, Rach. I've missed you."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrows together. "Please excuse me while I try and process this, Quinn."

"Process what?"

"Oh, I don't know, Quinn. How about the fact that my main tormenter in high school is married and has three children? Or how about the fact that that same person, who made my life a _living hell_ still asks one of my close friends about me? Or!" Rachel chuckled softly, "This is the kicker. How about the fact that the head Cheerio, Quinn Fabray, who overtly hated me and didn't ever speak to me unless she wanted to insult me – even when I did _nothing wrong_ – just so happens to _miss me_?"

Quinn averted her eyes from Rachel and turned them to the kitchen door. "I guess that's a lot to deal with in such a short amount of time."

"You think?" Rachel took in a very deep breath to keep her composure. Because Rachel Berry was nothing if not calm at all times. "Why?"

"Why what?" Quinn asked, looking back at Rachel. She started to pick at the hem of her shirt in nervousness.

"Why now, Quinn?" Rachel's voice hinted at a small amount of sadness hidden deep within her. "Why not back in high school? Why did you torment me? Why did you marry this Jeremy dude? And why do you have a bruise on your arm?" Rachel's eyes widen and she let out a gasp. Her brain finally caught up with her unfiltered thought process. "You have a bruise!" She clamped her hands over her mouth, staring at the fading bruise on Quinn's left arm.

Quinn's eyes matched Rachel's and she moved her right hand to cover the bruise on her left arm. She had hoped that Rachel wouldn't ever notice, so she didn't bother to put on a longer sleeved shirt. Of course, she never thought Rachel would show up, so she hadn't bothered to even think about her clothing choice this morning when she was getting ready. She watched as Rachel made her way over to her, internally chuckling at the sight – because _she had made Rachel Berry speechless_ – and then she stopped, remembering just why Rachel was speechless. She nearly jumped when she felt Rachel's fingers wrapping around her wrist to pull her right hand away from her left arm. She closed her eyes to try and will away what was happening, what Rachel was seeing.

"How did you get this, Quinn?" Rachel asked softly as she inspected the bruise – which turned out to be approximately three bruises. "And please don't tell me one of the children gave it to you, or you fell down. Because one, if they're anything like Jeremy, they're the most precious children in the world. And two, you are the most graceful person I know."

"Mom!" Jeremy screamed from upstairs. "Mike keeps hitting me!"

Quinn let out a loud sigh of relief. She pulled her arm from Rachel's hand and gave her a smile. "That will have to wait for another time, Rachel Berry, should you choose to want to know, of course." She patted Rachel's shoulder softly. "But right now, I need to get my children to eat their lunch."

Rachel nodded with a frown on her face, only this time, she didn't bother to hide it. She wanted Quinn to know that she wanted to know the story and how upset she was at this moment. "Of course."

"You're welcome to join us for lunch." Quinn added as she made her way out of the kitchen. "I can throw a salad together and maybe another dish of your choosing. I've become quite the chef since high school."

"I'll have to watch over you, to make sure you don't burn down the house." Rachel jokingly replied. "Would you like help with the kids?"

Quinn nodded, "I'm sure they'd love to meet you. They're quite the fans."

"They are?"

"They are." Quinn smiled. "I'm the one to blame, of course. We've watched everything you were in. More than once. At the request of the children."

Rachel was shocked to say the least. "I didn't know that."

"You learn something new every day."

"Would you like tickets to my next show?" Rachel kind of blurted out.

Quinn stopped half-way up the stairs. "Are you serious?"

With a nod, Rachel smiled. "I can get you five tickets. Front row, center."

"Four." Quinn whispered. "Just four. Jeremy won't want to come." She saw the brief flash of a frown on Rachel's face. "The kids and I have tried to get him to go with us, but he thinks it's a waste of time. He'd rather sit at the bar with his buddies watching whatever game is on that day."

xxxxxxx

It had been months since she had seen Quinn Fabray. Or, well, as much as she hated thinking about it, Quinn was no longer Quinn Fabray. She was now Quinn Thompson. She shuddered at the thought. She had to physically stop herself from dry heaving. Sure, she had moved on from Quinn. But it was still hard for her to imagine the woman being married to someone else – even harder to imagine that that same woman had given birth to three children since she had left high school.

And now that same woman and those same children were sitting in the front row of her show. She had paid for their airfare to get here, because she knew – or assumed, anyway – that Quinn was short on money, seeing as how she was practically raising three children on her own, with only minimal help from her husband (albeit he had a prestigious job that paid well enough for his family to live in the two story house). Rachel was excited that Quinn and her children were going to see her perform on Broadway. She wanted Quinn to surprise them a week before they were going to leave. She wanted it to be special for them. She wanted it to be special for Quinn.

xxxxxxx

Rachel had asked for Quinn and the kids to get into her car and wait for her to sign autographs after the show. With a heavy sigh, she entered the passenger side door and smiled at the family sitting in the back. She asked the driver to take them to her house before turning and addressing the family. "Did you enjoy the show, kiddos?"

They all nodded with big smiles plastered on their faces. All except for Sophia, who had fallen asleep in her car seat next to Quinn. "It was _awesome_!" Michael half-yelled.

"You were so amazing, Rachel!" Jeremy grinned and held up a shirt that Rachel was sure that Quinn had bought for him. "I gots a shirt!"

Rachel smiled. "That will look so good on you, Jer." She watched as Quinn's eyes widened at the nickname. She internally cursed herself; she wasn't sure if she was allowed to use nicknames with the kids. She had only known them for a few months. She had only talked to them on the phone a couple of times since she had left Lima to go back to New York.

Jeremy yawned loudly – probably louder than he usually did because he was being dramatic for Rachel. Michael shortly followed in his brother's footsteps and yawned as well. "You wanna go to sleep when we get to Rachel's house?" Quinn asked her sons as they leaned back against their respective seats. She smiled as they sleepily nodded and rubbed their eyes. She turned to Rachel and mouthed, "Thank you so much."

Rachel smiled back in response. She was happy to house Quinn and her children for their stay in New York. She wasn't about to let them pay for a hotel – extremely expensive hotels – when she lived just outside of the city and a fairly safe neighborhood.

When the car stopped at Rachel's house, Quinn exited the car and pulled Sophia into her arms. Without being asked, Rachel opened the back door and picked up Michael from his car seat, letting him continue to sleep. She woke Jeremy up and led him inside the house with her free hand. She and Quinn silently got the children out of their day clothes – Rachel insisted that they dress up for the theater – and into their pajamas before placing them into the large guest bed that Rachel had.

"Thank you again, Rachel." Quinn whispered as she watched Rachel close the door to her guest room. "You don't know how much it means for them."

Rachel smiled and shook her head. "It's my pleasure, Quinn. I'm happy to do it for them. They are great children."

"So, I guess it's time for bed for us?" Quinn asked. She wasn't sure if she wanted Rachel to insist on them sleeping or staying up to talk.

"I'd rather us talk, Quinn." Rachel said softly. She made her way into her kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. "Would you care for some tea?" She watched as Quinn nodded and followed her. "Please sit." She motioned for Quinn to sit on the barstool next to her counter. She pulled out her tea kettle and filled it with water and placing it on the now turned on stove, waiting for it to get ready. "Now, will you please answer my question from when I last saw you?"

Quinn picked at her fingers – a habit that she had acquired when she got nervous. "I'd rather not."

Rachel sat on the stool next to Quinn's. She gently placed a hand on Quinn's back, noting how the woman tensed slightly under her touch. "You and I both know that I won't let go of this until I get an answer from you, Quinn."

"I know." Quinn sighed. She stilled her hands and took in a deep breath. "It's been going on for about two years." She closed her eyes tightly as she recalled the memories she'd tried so hard to forget. "Jeremy would come home from work and he'd be unhappy about something and then he would take it out on me. It started off with small things; just a slap or two every few weeks. Then it kept getting worse."

Rachel stilled her hand on Quinn's back and brought it to place it over Quinn's hands. She had so many questions to ask her, but she kept them to herself. She'd rather hear the story and then ask questions.

"When it first started, he wouldn't even do it in the same room as the kids." Quinn let out a shaky sigh. "Now, he doesn't even care. And the last time that he did it, Jeremy was in the next room over. When he heard his dad starting to shout, he came running in and tried to stop his father." She swallowed hard and wiped her eyes of the tears starting to form. "Jer needed to get three stitches on his cheek."

"Oh, Quinn." Rachel whispered softly. She wrapped her arms around the quietly crying woman. "Please tell me that bastard is in jail."

Quinn buried her head into Rachel's shoulders. "I left him about two weeks after the reunion, when he hit Jer."

"Where are you staying now? Do you have resources to make it? Do you have a job? Do you need help?" Rachel ran her fingers through Quinn's hair. "I will do absolutely anything to make sure you and your children are safe."

"Rachel, we'll be okay." Quinn chuckled and pulled out of Rachel's arms. "We're staying at my mom's place for a while. She moved to Pennsylvania after she divorced my dad."

Rachel grinned at the information. "Now you all can come to more shows!"

"Is that all you think of?" Quinn poked Rachel's side in jest. "Not, 'I get to see you and the kids more often, Quinn!' or 'Now I can babysit your kids when I have days off, Quinn!'"

Rachel squeaked and gripped Quinn's hand tightly, pulling it away from her body. She stepped forward, standing about a foot away from Quinn. She grabbed her other hand as a precaution and held it away from both of their bodies. "I thought that was implied, Quinn." She looked down at Quinn whose chest was moving more pronounced.

If Rachel were in high school, she would have leaned down and kissed Quinn Fabray. If Rachel were in high school, she would have confessed to Quinn that she loved her. If Rachel were still in high school, she would offer Quinn and her children to move in with her because she wanted them closer. If Rachel were in high school, things would be so different than they are now.

But Rachel isn't in high school anymore. And those old high school feelings were left back on the first stage she had ever performed on on Broadway.

She tugged at Quinn's hands and pulled her off of the barstool. "Let's go to sleep. You're going to be with me in my bed tonight. I'm not taking no for an answer."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I apologize for such a long break between chapters! I really don't have a reason except that work has been keeping me busy. As well as gaining a new roommate, who has started the roommate relationship on a bad foot. But oh well. It's something to deal with.

I do hope you forgive my inability to update in a timely manner and enjoy this next chapter. I hope that it clears up any confusion that you may have had from the last chapter. And once again, if you have any suggestions on what you'd like to see in the next, and final, chapter, please let me know and I will do my best to work them in. Thank you all for reading and thank you to those who review!

xxxxxxx

On any given night, one could find Rachel in her bed, curled up under the covers with a good book. Normally, she only wore an old, slightly over-sized t-shirt that rested just above mid-thigh. However, tonight was not any normal night and she had managed to dig up an old pair of pajamas to wear. Sure, she had had her fair share of women in her bed, which was nothing she wasn't completely unfamiliar with. Yet, having this one particular woman in her bed was throwing her off.

Normally, the women Rachel slept with had _insisted_ on not wearing any clothes – to which Rachel put up little fight.

But the moment Rachel had told Quinn they were sleeping in the same bed, Rachel's mouth went dry, her palms started sweating, and she kept replaying extremely different scenarios in her head. She hadn't expected Quinn to _follow_ her to her bedroom, let alone use her master bathroom in order to change into her own pajamas. Nor did she expect to find Quinn snuggled up on _her side_ of the bed when she returned from the guest bathroom next to the room where Quinn's children were staying. Rachel had let out a soft, defiant sigh and crawled into the other side, as far away from Quinn as she could.

If Quinn was any other woman, Rachel wouldn't have put the entire bed between them. If this were high school, Rachel wouldn't have put the entire bed between them; she probably would have turned the air conditioner on and insisted that the two snuggle in order to preserve their body heat – Rachel was nothing if not slightly obsessed with Quinn Fabray in high school.

Yet, this was not high school. Nor was Quinn another woman. So Rachel spent the night forcing herself to fall asleep. It didn't help that no matter how much she had pep-talked herself into thinking and believing she was over Quinn, the feelings were still there – however miniscule they were at this point in time.

With a groan, she turned and faced Quinn, whom she hadn't been paying attention to the entire night. She was presented with what she considered to be awe-inspiring and breath-taking. Quinn's hair – now slightly longer than shoulder length, which reminded her of when she first caught sight of the cheerleader back in high school – was covering her face, her arms were under her head, propping it up, and Rachel could feel her knee's weight just a few inches from her stomach. All Rachel wanted to do – this Rachel, as well as high school Rachel – was to reach over and brush the hair out of Quinn's face in order to see her better.

Quinn took in a deep breath and blew it out her mouth, shooting the air upward to blow the hair from the front of her face. Rachel chuckled silently, but she was sure Quinn could feel the bed bouncing from her laugh. "Rach? Are you up?" Quinn brought her left hand from under the pillow and sloppily slapped the hair from in front of her eyes. She smiled when she saw that Rachel was laughing at her.

"Couldn't sleep?" Rachel asked, scooting a little closer to Quinn on the bed. She didn't want to push things with Quinn. Sure, she had seen the change in Quinn; she was much quieter than in high school, she was much more careful about her words and actions, she wasn't as guarded, but at the same time, more guarded than before. Sure, in a few months' time, she had gained friend-status with Quinn, and she wouldn't be opposed to anything more, but she knew she needed to be careful and not push Quinn away – not when she was finally getting the woman to open up to her and be friendly with her.

Quinn shook her head and sighed. "I see you couldn't either." It wasn't really a question, but in Quinn's language, it sort of was.

"I have a lot on my mind, I guess." Rachel replied with a twitch of her lips. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Same reason." Quinn turned and rested on her back. She brought her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling.

Rachel took a few seconds to admire Quinn's body in the low light of the moon. "Anything in particular?"

"Would you believe me if I said 'everything'?" Quinn arched an eyebrow and looked over at Rachel with a serious look on her face.

"Of course I would, Quinn." Rachel answered. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Quinn chewed at the inside of her cheek as she turned and looked at the ceiling again. "I guess I keep wondering where everything went wrong in my life. Like, what was that _one_ event that changed everything for the worse? I think- I think I figured it out." she let out a long sigh.

"What was it?"

"I think it was back in high school." Quinn bit her bottom lip and sighed again. "I remember how you used to pine over me. I remember how I thought I hated it. I remember being _so angry_ at you for pulling that damn stunt senior year."

Rachel couldn't help it; she let out a loud laugh before quickly covering her mouth. "Oh god. I'm sorry, Quinn. Please keep going."

Quinn glared at Rachel for interrupting her. But she also couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips. "I remember how _smug_ you were after everyone found out it was you." The glare softened as she saw Rachel still trying – and failing – to stifle her laugh. "And I can see you're still smug about it."

"It was a harmless prank!" Rachel squeaked out before dissolving into a fit of giggles again. "Your face was priceless, though, when you first saw it."

"You were _there_?" Quinn's eyes widened before she glared at the laughing woman lying in front of her. "I should have known. Rachel Berry doesn't do anything unless it's 100% followed through." She saw Rachel nod in between catching her breath and laughing again. "I was so pissed at you, Rachel." She let out a sigh as she remembered the ever-so-fond memory.

xxxxxxx

"_Q, what's this?" Santana had her arms crossed in front of her chest. The weather was particularly cold this October morning, something that none of the Cheerios had failed to notice. _

_Quinn let out a growl as she continued to survey the damage to her precious football field. As Head Cheerio, she took her job very seriously. And this, _defacing_, of her property was only adding insult to the injury. She turned on her heel and walked up to the top of the bleachers, being extremely careful of the very wet seats and stairs. Pulling out her phone, she proceeded to take a picture of the infernal writing on her field. "I don't know, San. But I'm going to get to the bottom of this, even if it's the last thing I do."_

"_I think it was Man Hands." Santana said in an angry tone. She was taking this as personally as Quinn was. As second-in-command, much to her dismay and not that she hadn't tried to dethrone Quinn, this was also her property. It was like someone was stabbing her in the side with the knife from her own kitchen. "The spray paint is fresh, probably no more than 5 hours old." She bent down and ran her fingers across the edge of the painted words and numbers. "It's gold." She looked up at her Head Cheerio's name written on the field. "And there's a heart on the 'I' in your name." She pointed to the offending word on the field._

"_That makes perfect sense." Quinn nodded. She walked past Santana and up to her name and surveyed the damage. "Why would she do it, though?"_

_Santana stood up and walked over to Quinn. "Why _wouldn't_ she?"_

_Quinn took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "She's in love with me."_

"_She's a loser."_

"_It would boost her popularity."_

"_She wouldn't be a loser anymore."_

"_She could get suspended."_

"_Which would boost her popularity."_

"_She could get arrested."_

"_Which would also boost her popularity."_

"_It would make me look like a slut, even if I am president of the celibacy club."_

"_She'd get your attention." Santana muttered softly, running out of reasons as to why Rachel would pull such a stunt. She caught Quinn looking at her out of the corner of her eye. "You said for yourself, Q, that she's in love with you. What better way to get your attention than doing something like this?"_

_Quinn shrugged and pulled out her phone again to look at the time. "She didn't have to try and humiliate me or endanger her own future by doing a stunt like this."_

"_You know as well as I do why she would." Santana bumped her shoulder against Quinn's. "Even through your Ice Queen, Head Cheerio façade, I can see you care for her." She raised her eyebrows at Quinn's attempt to interrupt. "Before you say anything, Q, just let me finish." She smiled as she watched Quinn's shoulders fall in submission. "I know you care about her. It may not be romantically, or even friendly, but Rachel has been in your life for a few years now. She's made her presence obviously known to you, and to the rest of the school, ever since she stepped foot into McKinley High. And for nearly as long, she has made her crush on you be known. That's a constant for you. Hell, it's a constant for me." Santana chuckled and Quinn rolled her eyes. "You care about her because she is that constant for you. I'm not saying you'll run off and have gaybies with the girl or become best friends with her. I'm just saying is she's always there – that's why you care."_

"_Do you have mind-reading powers or something?" Quinn asked, attempting to make light of the situation._

_Santana wrapped an arm around Quinn's shoulder and pulled her into a hug. "I'm your best friend, Q. I know you." Santana felt Quinn wrap her arms around her waist. "And if you ever tell anyone I got mushy on you, I _will_ go Lima Heights Adjacent and beat yo' ass."_

_Quinn chuckled and rested her chin on Santana's shoulder. "Cross my heart and hope to die, S." She let out a quiet sigh. "What do I do about Berry?"_

"_Whatever you want to do." Santana shrugged her shoulders and ran a hand up and down Quinn's neck, pulling away enough to rest her forehead against the other girl's. "I'll follow your lead, Captain."_

"_I think I should be pissed about this." Quinn let out a laugh as she pulled out of Santana's grasp to look at the spray painted field again. "I mean, she did deface our field."_

"_And she kind of tarnished your image, too." Santana poked Quinn's side when she saw the anger rushing back into Quinn. "Cool it down, cowboy. You'll get to punish her later. But for now, let's take it out on the newbies." She pointed to the other Cheerios just now entering the field. _

_Quinn nodded and shook out her limbs and body to regain composure. "I want ten full-field wind sprints, ladies!" She yelled across the field. A groan of unpleasantness could be heard from where Quinn and Santana were standing. "And if I hear you complain again, I'll double it! Now get to it, ladies! Don't make me take you all the way into first period!" She watched as the group dropped their water bottles on the edge of the fence and started to run at her command. They knew not to mess with her – when she said something, she meant it. _

"_Between us?" Santana whispered as the group of Cheerios got half-way down the field. Quinn nodded and held out her fist. Santana smiled and bumped her fist against Quinn's softly._

xxxxxxx

Rachel had moved to the head of the bed. She sat up with her back against the headboard and her knees pulled up to her chest. Quinn was still lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. "You cared?"

"I've always cared, Rach." Quinn whispered. It was probably the wrong thing to say. But right now, she didn't really care.

Rachel shook her head. She couldn't believe it. Up until recently, she had believed that Quinn hated her entire being. Until Santana just happened to tell her that Quinn still asked about her – she didn't think Quinn had _ever_ asked about her. Now she was learning that the woman who tormented her in high school, who had three children with her now soon-to-be-ex-husband, had _cared_ about her. She was learning that she had apparently always cared about her. Color her shocked. "I call bullshit."

Quinn laughed. "Call it whatever you want, but it's true."

"You made fun of me when I left for New York!"

"I was jealous." Quinn replied, like it was the easiest thing in the world to understand. "You got out and I didn't. No one except for you got out of Lima. At least, no one did until recently."

Rachel huffed loudly – and dramatically – as she scooted back under the covers and into bed. She turned her back to Quinn as she curled up into a ball. "That doesn't justify how horrible you all were to me. Just because I got out and you didn't, doesn't mean you had the right to tear me down day after day for _years_."

Quinn nodded, even though she knew Rachel couldn't see her. "If I could go back and change it, I would."

"Right." Rachel replied shortly. She was tired of this conversation.

"I would." Quinn turned on her side to face Rachel's back. She brought a hand up to Rachel's shoulder, trying to get her to turn around. It didn't take much effort; Rachel didn't put up much of a fight. "I know you don't believe me. I know I treated you like shit back in high school. I know I made fun of you nearly the entire time I've known you. I know I never showed interest in you. I can't say that I didn't mean any of it, because I was just trying to deal with the inevitability of my future life. I was destined to be stuck in Lima. I was destined to marry some _good, Christian_ man and start a family with him. I was destined to hate you from the moment I met you. But that doesn't excuse anything." Quinn let out a sigh as she closed her eyes. "But I am sorry for what I said and did. If I could change it, I would." She ran her hand up and down Rachel's arm in an attempt to comfort her. "I would be the friend that you needed in high school. I would have reached out sooner than 10 years after graduation. I would have stayed your friend after high school. I would have been someone you could go to when you needed. I would-"

"Stop." Rachel shook her head. "Just stop, Quinn."

"But, Rachel."

"No." Rachel sighed. "It doesn't do anything to dwell in the past." She shook her shoulder until Quinn's arm fell off and onto the bed between them. "Let's just move on from here, okay?"

Quinn nodded reluctantly. She wanted to prove to Rachel that she meant what she was telling her.

Rachel gave a short nod, her face contorting as she tried to – and failed to – stifle a yawn. Her eyes slowly closed on their own accord, against Rachel's will.

Soon enough, Quinn could hear slow breathing coming from the other woman. She smiled and brushed a piece of hair from Rachel's face. "I still care, Rach."

xxxxxxx

"But Mom!" Jeremy whined. It was his go-to strategy when things weren't going his way.

"No, Jer." Quinn replied sternly.

Jeremy turned and looked up at Rachel. He had Quinn's eyes, something that Rachel had noticed in the first few moments of seeing him when she visited their home in Lima. "Please, Rachel?" For added measures, he batted his eyelashes.

Rachel bent down so she was eye-level with the little boy. "I'm sorry, bud. But," She smiled as Jeremy frowned at her words. "I'm sure if you're nice enough to your mom and brother and sister, your mom will let you come visit again soon."

"Really?" Jeremy's eyes widened to near-Rachel proportions. He turned and looked up at Quinn who was laughing.

"Is true, Momma?" Sophia tugged on Quinn's dress, her thumb hanging from her mouth.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Spend one weekend with Rachel, and she's already got you brainwashed." She bent down and picked up Sophia, resting her on her hip. "I don't know if I should let her around you anymore. She might talk you into believing you're her kids!"

Rachel gasped, placing her hand on her chest for the dramatic effect. "I wouldn't do such a thing!"

"Yeah, Mom! Rachel wouldn't do such thing!" Jeremy copied Rachel's movements exactly, down to the long gasp.

"No thing!" Sophia giggled. She stretched her arms out for Rachel to hold her.

Rachel stuck her tongue out at Quinn as she received the little girl, placing her on her own hip. She watched as Quinn picked up Michael, mirroring Rachel's childishness and sticking her tongue back at her. "At least I still have little Mikey that loves me." She smiled when her son snuggled into her neck.

"Promise you'll visit again?" Rachel asked after a moment of staring at Quinn and her children.

"It's the least I could do after what you did." Quinn turned to place Michael in his car seat. She buckled him in and motioned for Jeremy to get into the car.

Rachel walked Sophia over to the other side and buckled her into her own car seat. "I didn't do anything except accompany you all for grilled cheese sandwiches. Which, you could better by using vegan cheese."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at Rachel's rambles, closing the car doors. "Don't try and convert me to your vegan-ism, Rach. It's not gonna work."

"It was worth a shot." Rachel shrugged, walking back around to Quinn's side of the car. She stuffed her hands into her pocket and rocked back and forth on her feet. "About the lunch." She ventured a glance into the car and saw the children all fighting over a toy she gave them – which, she bought three of, but apparently one was 'more special' than the others. "Don't mention it. It was a chance for me to see you again after 10 years."

"Still," Quinn replied, "You weren't obligated to go. But it was nice." She smiled at Rachel whose eyes were still glued at her children in the car. "It meant a lot, Rach. Even if you don't think so, it really did."

Rachel shrugged her shoulders, still rocking on her feet. "It was nothing, Quinn. It was my pleasure."

"I don't think you understand how much it meant, Rachel." Quinn stepped forward and placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "It meant so much when I saw Jeremy drag you into the kitchen. I didn't think you'd ever show up. I didn't expect you to show up. And yet you did. Even after all the hell I put you through in high school, and not ever talking to you in the 10 years leading up to our reunion, you still showed up."

"I wanted to." Rachel said, like it was the easiest concept to grasp. "You needed someone, Quinn. I was happy to provide that for you. Sure, it wasn't reciprocated before then, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I was in love with you, Quinn. Those feelings don't just go away overnight." She watched as Quinn opened her mouth to butt-in. "Or even in 10 years." She smiled as Quinn rolled her eyes. "But I meant what I said at the reunion. You can call at any time, day or night. And now that you know where I live, you can visit whenever you want – provided that you do inform me at least a day ahead of time."

Quinn nodded and pulled Rachel into a hug. "Thank you, Rachel. You have no idea how much you and your friendship means to me."

"I have some idea, Quinn." Rachel smiled into Quinn's shoulder, breathing in deeply to remember everything about the woman before her. "Just don't go 10 years without talking to me again, okay?"

"Okay." Quinn replied with a laugh. She reluctantly pulled out of the hug and stared at Rachel. "We gotta get going. There's a 6 hour drive ahead of us, at least."

"Of course." Rachel nodded and watched Quinn get into her car. "Call me when you make it there, okay?"

"Of course." Quinn smiled. "Talk to you later, Rachel." She put the car into reverse and started to back out of Rachel's driveway. She waved as she pulled onto the fairly quiet street before putting the car in drive and pulling out of the neighborhood.

Rachel raised a hand and waved at Quinn as she pulled away. "Bye, Quinn." She smiled, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. She pinched her arm to remind herself that she was, in fact, not dreaming.

Before Quinn turned the corner, she chanced a quick glance behind her. She saw Rachel still waving, but now she was in the middle of the street, holding onto the goodbye as long as she could. Quinn couldn't help but smile at the sight.


End file.
